Worth
by ZekuRoku
Summary: America felt ill knowing he found satisfaction under Russia's cruel touch. England, was at home waiting for him... It was foolish to let this happen. Slightly One-sided America/Russia, England/America
1. Chapter 1

**Worth**

**By:** ZekuRoku

**Pairing:** Onesided Russia/America and America/England

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"I'm not fond of you." America stated, glaring at the taller man that was towering over him.

Russia's response was a bright smile, "I absolutely hate your very being."

America smirked, "Well, I am rather happy the feeling is mutual." He could feel the tighten grip on his wrists, his head pound against the wall, and a pair of cold dominating lips on his. The blonde was finding it hard to breathe with a tongue forced down his throat. Despite his current situation, he released a heated moan in response. It made him feel sick to his stomach this was turning him on so bad.

Perhaps the guilt is what made him sick. He was cheating on England. There was no excuse he could use. Sure, they had gotten in a tiff, but it was wrong of him to go and take sexual release with another nation... Especially Russia.

"Is this why England's always so uptight? You just stand there, without a struggle like the bitch you are and just take it like an unresponsive whore?" The words were whispered in his ear as he was suddenly thrown to the ground with a loud thud. Without time to recover he was suddenly seeing white as a knee was forced in between his legs. Gasping for air, he began to realize the pain felt euphoric. "You want more?"

Taking in those icy words he heard the sound of a belt clanking to the wooden floor and the rustling of clothes...The anticipation was killing him... He was jerked forward by his shirt's collar, "On your hands and knees." The tone was dark and a hard kick was landed to the side of his face causing Texas to go flying in the opposite direction. "I said to get up on your hands and knees." His hair was yanked on and he was moved forward. He managed to kneel being positioned face to face with Russia's large member.

Perhaps the power of the situation was turning the emotionally psychotic nation on more than he thought. _Alfred F. Jones... What have you gotten yourself into?_ Awkward silence buzzed, and did not mix well with the looming tension in the air. "Suck."

The demeaning command sent shivers down his spine, as he managed to deep throat the Russian successfully. A small grunt was released, and suddenly the American's face was being shoved forward again, a hand tightly gripping the hair on the back of his head, moving him back and forth. Whimpering at the pain that racked his throat and body, America found himself sexually enjoying the situation. _What is wrong with me..._

Without warning a warm substance was released into his mouth. There kneeling in front of Russia, on that living room floor he swallowed all of it like the whore he was. His hair was released, and before he could even let out a breath he was smacked across the face once again. In a moment of fear he began to move back, but Russia stepped forward. Looming over him with narrowed eyes.

"That was rather disappointing, but no matter. The best part is about to begin, da?"

America knew what was coming next, why didn't he stop it? Why was he not resisting? _ Arthur..._ That name kept running threw his mind. This was so wrong, just so wrong, but why was his body reacting to it?

He was now being stripped, his shirt being harshly torn off his bruised and battered body. Soon a mouth was biting down on his neck so hard he released a scream that caused Russia to shiver. He never even recalled when his pants were removed. While he laid exposed, another twinge of guilt was felt... This was seriously going to happen and the overwhelming emotion of confusion washed over him.

"You're a needy little thing aren't you? Perhaps this is why that incredibly stupid nation took interest in you." A chuckle was released. "Does it rack you with such guilt knowing you're moaning like a cat in heat under my touch and not his?" As if to prove a point he stuck two fingers into America's opening, dry. A few moans were released as he wiggled under Russia's painful ministrations.

Those words hurt more than he would have ever imagined as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry Arthur," he whispered, releasing another breathy moan, before Russia positioned himself in front of his entrance. A creepy grin was the last thing he saw before his vision was blurred and seared white.

How he managed to drag himself to the door was beyond him. His mind was blank and all he could do was try to ignore the pain the flashed through ever inch of his battered body. Upon entering the all too familiar foyer he was greeted with a distressed looking England. It was then he fell to his knees and began to vomit.

Green eyes stared at the huddled figure in a state of shock, and horror. He stood in place, not quite sure what to do and terribly confused at America's beaten state. "Arthur..." The American began to sob after he was done, but continued dry heaving. A sinking feeling washed over England as he knelt down by the other blonde's side, pulling him into a tight embrace.

This only caused America to start crying louder and hold onto to the others shirt with a firm tight grip. England wasn't stupid. He could fill in the pieces himself. He could already tell what had happened and it made him feel incredibly dirty and unworthy. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He chanted over and over wishing that if he thought hard enough, that it would make it all go away. The pain, the regret... The memory...

"Shhh... It's okay Alfred." England had not realized his eyes beginning to overflow with tears of his own. "I'm the one who is sorry..." He kissed his lover's bruised forehead and cheeks, running his hand through the tangled hair in a comforting manner.

"I'm dirty... I'm a piece of shit..."

"Don't say that, shhh." It took about twenty minutes before the American had calmed, and cried himself to sleep. The sight of Alfred in such a condition brought more pain then he could ever imagine. Picking up America in a swooping manner, he carried him into their room. Quickly he changed the blood soaked clothes into newly washed ones, and treated the bleeding gashes that littered every inch of his body.

"Alfred..." He whispered to his lover that was now sound asleep underneath the warm bed covers. England hesitated and ruffled the figures hair before kissing his forehead. "I love you." It was then he exited the room, glancing back one more time before closing the door.

Blue eyes opened and stared into the darkness, "I... Love you too, Arthur." This guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life...

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**Author Note:** This is the first time I have ever written anything that has involved any sort of... Sexual activity O.o I really hope this ended up not being fail. I have this image of England allowing America back despite having a suspicion of what happened... He probably feels responsible.

Should I continue? :) Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Worth**

**By:** ZekuRoku

**Pairings:** One sided Russia/America, and America/England

**Author Note:** Truthfully I was not going to write another chapter... But here I am continuing. I had too many awesome reviewers to just stop. But... I tend to ruin nice things as they go on. :( I sure hope this isn't utter fail. I had to consul with my my fellow Hetalia nerdy friends on where to take this. Let me know if I should redo the chapter...Seriously.

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England was not yet use to the piercing screams that woke him every night for the past month and a half. His heart would always skip a beat, and in a panic he would roll himself off the couch and make a break for his and America's bedroom. There the American was, thrashing in a cold sweat, screaming England's name.

"Alfred..." He leaned down on the bed, attempting to avoiding the flailing. "Alfred." Still nothing, he sighed, "Alfred, I'm right here!" Grabbing onto the other's shoulder, he shook him awake. "It's just a nightmare!"

"A-Arthur..."America sobbed, wrapping his arms around his lover. "I'm s-sorry... I'm so sorry... I- I'm so sorry. Wi-will you ever forgive me? I didn't me-mean to!"

"Shhh, it's okay Alfred... Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong," Noticing the other was calming down a bit, England sighed and held the blonde in his arms, stroking his hair in hopes it would lull him to sleep. "Just go to sleep... You're exhausted..."

The American sniffed a bit his eyes getting droopy, "I am sorry..."

England tsk'd, "Enough of that, Alfred..."

"Do... Do you love me, Arthur?"

A bit stunned, "Of course I do... You git," The words were whispered and affectionately rolled off his tongue. Rocking them back and forth he was quite certain the other was asleep. Warmly he kissed the American on the forehead and slowly made his way off the bed. He set the sleeping figure back down and pulled the covers up. "Sleep well Alfred..." England slowly making his way back to the couch.

"Arthur..."

The bright sandy blonde stopped in the doorway and looked back. So he wasn't asleep. "Yes?"

"Stay with me tonight... Please." It was more of a plea then a demand, voice holding a melancholic tone.

"Of course," The Brit awkwardly walked back toward the bed and scooted to his usual side, feeling a bit of panic when a pair of arms were wrapped around him.

"Thank you... I don't want you on the couch... I'm so-"

"Do not apologize anymore. You did nothing wrong. Now go to sleep."

Sweet silence filled the room, and England was feeling rather frazzled at the moment. Actually, he has been frazzled for the past month or so. Whatever was wrong with America has seriously put a rise on his stress levels. Though, he had assumptions. Unbeknownst to him, those assumptions were rather close to the problem that was at hand.

Just the mere thought of those bruises... Those bleeding cuts that had littered his America's body made him feel sick all over again. Someone had to have taken advantage of him, but if that was the case what was with America's guilt trip? What could have made it so bad that he felt unworthy to have England in the same bed as him? Whatever had happened must have been horrific. Whomever caused this would pay dearly.

These thoughts kept England up for hours on end, and he was sick of it. He had yet the heart to ask the American what had happened... It obviously was still touchy for him. But, how long would he have to wait? Months? Years? This guessing-no, waiting game could not go on forever. He loved Alfred. With all his heart, he loved him. It just hurt too much to feel as if their relationship was taking steps backwards.

Shifting a bit in the American's arms, he sighed and attempted to make his mind slow down so he could attempt sleep. He knew better than that. He wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

"I never said no..." A rasped whisper cut threw the silence.

England jumped, sitting up and causing the bed covers to pool into his lap, "Alfred, go to sleep..."

"You're not sleeping..." Those blue eyes refused to meet green, they stared directly toward the pillow laying under his head. There was a glazed distant look to them that made those eyes of green waver with unshed tears.

"Alfred... Are you okay? I mean, seriously okay?"

"I... I don't think so. Arthur, why are you here?"

Giving a confused look, "Um, because you asked me to be here?"

Receiving a hollow laugh in return, "Not that. I mean, why are you here with me? Still _with_ me?"

"Have you not been listening? You stupid git, I love you..." England spoke with a sincere tone that sent America overboard into a fit of sudden sobs, burying his face into his pillow in attempt to hide. "What in the world... Alfred! What is wrong with you?" Once again he scooped the crying blonde into his arms, "I need to know what happened... I need to know who hurt you!" Instant regret seeped in as he felt the American's grip on his night shirt become tense.

"I never said no..."

Those repeated words sent a chill up the Brit's spine, "What do you mean?"

The sobs receded, but his face remained buried into England's shirt, "I let him defile me without saying no... I- I liked it... I never told him to stop. Even when you were on my mind, I still let it happen..." Arthur's blood ran cold. "Can you forgive me now?"

Just too many thoughts bombarded the Brit's mind. "Wh-what?" His voice betrayed the hurt and he mentally cussed to himself. Things were taking a bit of a drastic turn.

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**Author Note:** Oh snap! The plot thickens... Next chapter will have the Russia and England confrontation! Please review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Worth**

**By:** ZekuRoku

**Author Note:** There is about a months time skip in this chapter as well. In which it is implied that England knows it's Russia, and has accepted America for any bouts of unfaithfulness that has taken place. I wanted this fic to remain short and put in parts with different characters interacting. Hope it's okay :O

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"Who would have thought you'd have such a backbone to show up here?" The happy smile and the childish tone mixed in with the Russian's thick accented voice sent chills down the Englishman's spine. He felt so utterly foolish confronting the other like this. Attempting not to let his pride fall, he held in the urge to begin shaking in fear. This was pathetic, the once strong British Empire was scared. So scared, he refused to speak, knowing his voice would crack the calm demeanor he was forcing to keep up. "Ah, it's nice having company. Though, I would rather prefer my guests to show up invited. This must be quite the emergency, da?"

_For Alfred_, the words echoed in his mind. This was not a time to fall into one of Russia's mind games. Taking in a deep breath hoping it would help calm himself, "You broke something precious to me..." England spoke softly, his hand was balled into a fist. He was shaking with built up rage. "Punching you in the face for all the shit I have gone through these past months seemed like a good place to start."

"Ha," the Russian giggled, "This _is _about Alfred then! How is Alfred doing? I hope his wounds are healing nicely. That salt packed in them must have stung for days, poor thing."

Every bit of control he had was lone gone and the blonde pinned the taller nation to the wall, "How fucking dare you! What you did to Alfred is unforgivable, don't act so chummy like it's a joke!"

"This is very amusing. You are so clueless and I find it very silly. Alfred came to me, has he not told you that?"

The Brit was about to punch that sickening smirk off the Russian's face, "He didn't asked to be abused and mutilated!"

Russia dully noticed that England's shaky hands were moving from his shoulders to his neck. How silly he was. The Brit thought he could strangle him. Oh, it'd be such fun to cause his current annoyance to break down through words, "So you just let Alfred sleep with whomever he wants? As long as they don't maim his beautiful body, so you won't feel guilt looking at it? You are very desperate and lonely."

"How dare you assume such things? And you are not deserving of calling him by his name, he's The United States of America to you!" He knew he was digging himself into a deep hole, but the accusation stabbed at him with severe annoyance.

"Alfred and I are comrades, da? I would think we should be on a first names basis. Right, Arthur?"

"That's it!" The Blonde roared, raising a fist and landing a direct hit to Russia's face. A sickening crack echoed throughout the empty house.

Violet eyes slowly glanced down at the blood pooling from his nose onto his trademark coat and scarf, narrowing into an intense glare, "I believe you broke my nose...How uncharacteristically bold of you."

It was then England felt the fear began to rise. Instant regret began to echo in his mind. _Why did you go and do something so impulsive and stupid like that? This will not help you at all! You know what Russia is capable of doing! Run away, now!_ His mind echoed nothing butlogic, logic, logic... Though he was frozen still. It took him to while to break free from his daze to register that a lead pipe was crashing down in his direction.

"Hm, this is much more fun when you dodge," The platinum haired man lifted the pipe attempting to strike the blonde again.

England managed to barrel roll out of the way and sprinted toward the door. He felt like a fool for even entering the Russian's home to begin with. He should have listened to Alfred and just let it be, but he had to mentally settle the score with the crazy nation that injured the American. It was his overwhelming protective nature kicking in and oh, how he cursed himself for it. Almost reaching the door, he suddenly tripped and fell flat on his face, "_Shit_!"

"You are just so incredibly silly. Thinking you could just barge into my home in such a rude manner and break my nose then leave as if nothing happened. See, that's not fair..."

"Like you ever played fair before," The blonde mumbled under his breath feeling the panic rising each step the Russian took toward him. It was like something out of horror movie, he did nothing but close his eyes tightly shut, knowing the lead pipe would crash down on him any second. The creepy childish giggling being emitted from Russian didn't aid him from imaging the inevitable fear away.

"See? This game is much more fun. Let's have a guess at how many bones of yours I will break with 5 hits, shall we?" The whistling of the lead pipe being swung echoed throughout the home and the sounds of England screaming in agony followed, going unheard by the world.

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**Author Note:** Wow, I apologize for the incredibly late update. I guess motivation just has to smacks me up side the head every once and a while. Gah, poor England! It killed me inside writing this, hope I pinned their characterization spot on. I always imagine Russia to taunt England, while England despises the Russian. Please Review and let me know how I am doing! I have no idea what to do next so ideas are very much appreciated! :D THANKS!


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